


Ain't Gonna Worry, Ain't Gonna Push

by lady_ragnell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:10:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia talks Bellamy into being security for a workshop at the sex shop where she works, and Bellamy ends up finding out way more than he was expecting to learn.</p>
<p>Or, how Bellamy Blake learned to stop worrying and love his dom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Gonna Worry, Ain't Gonna Push

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** to expand on the "Mildly Dubious Consent" in the tags, Bellamy gets tied up a few times (in non-sexual situations) on a dare or because he feels goaded into it. He's taken care of, and eventually decides to look into more about it, but it does start out as a challenge rather than a choice, so be aware of that.
> 
> Title from "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye, because I couldn't resist, and the alternate summary is courtesy of the wonderfully clever **samyazaz**. The sex shop is respectfully based on a really wonderful non-sketchy shop I went to one time.

“Are you free this Saturday during the day?”

“As far as I know,” says Bellamy, and regrets it immediately when Octavia smiles. He can only blame the fact that he's not at his best in the mornings and she knows that. “Whatever it is, no,” he adds. It's at least a good negotiating point to start from.

“You already said you're free, and I would owe you a favor.”

“You owe me at least four favors, Octavia.”

“Well then, you should call a few in. Aren't you even going to listen to what I want your help with?”

“If it's anything to do with work, Octavia, I swear—”

“As you know,” she says loudly, and he loses any remaining hope that she needed help building a bookshelf or a ride to some store she can't get to on the bus or something. “As you know, I organized my first work event for this weekend, but given the subject, I kind of want to have some security around. You'd get paid, Bell, and you would really be helping me out.”

“I don't want to hear about your work events.”

“God, you are such a prude. Look, normally Indra and Anya and I can handle any trouble, and Lincoln definitely can, but this is going to be a big event with a lot of new people and I don't want to take any risks.” Bellamy refuses to admit to softening, but from the smirk breaking out on her face she, as always, knows his mind better than he does. “It's the first week of a multi-week workshop on basic kink, and you know people can be assholes, and some people can push too far, and I could really use some security standing in the back of the room making sure no one gets fresh or ignores consent or anything.”

“You said you guys can handle any trouble, so I'm superfluous.” And he really does not want to make eye contact with his sister while she ties someone up. If that makes him a prude, he will embrace prudery.

“I have to organize, Anya and Lincoln are handling the store and it's a Saturday so we'll be getting plenty of traffic, and Indra is out of town for the day. Seriously, Bell, you would be saving my life. And you'd get a store discount!”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I'm going to continue buying my condoms and lube at the grocery store, thanks.”

“You have no imagination.”

“Remember how we had that discussion when you started dating seriously that there are conversations we can't have? We are getting close to one of those right now.”

Octavia just laughs. “You're the one who taught me what sex was, can you blame me for turning into a sex-positive woman?”

“I should have told you to become a nun.” He crosses his arms. “It's not happening.”

“Bellamy.” He makes a point of looking at the table, because he knows exactly how serious and pleading she's going to look, and he knows what his weaknesses are. “I'm really glad that Indra and Anya are trusting me with planning my own events, and I just need a little support. I want to make sure this goes off without a hitch.”

“Seriously, O, I appreciate that you're serious, but I'm not going to spend my Saturday in a sex workshop run by my little sister.”

*

Saturday morning, Bellamy walks through the door of Polis Intimates for what he hopes is the only time in his life.

“I'm Bellamy, I'm security for the workshop,” he says, hands in the air, before the woman behind the counter can even open her mouth to ask him what he's here for. She must be Anya. He doesn't see Lincoln, which he's grateful for. He can barely stand dealing with Lincoln outside out the shop, he doesn't want to spend time with his sister's boyfriend surrounded by reminders of sex.

“Right.” Anya stares at him, and he's not sure if it's a glare or not but it makes him tense anyway. “Event space is the room on the right. Octavia is already in there, and people are starting to filter in for the event. Take your cues from the presenters, don't fucking kink shame anyone, and punch anyone who ignores the word no. Got it?”

“Got it.” He can do this. He spent Octavia's teenage years telling her to punch any guy who looked at her sideways, so it's pretty easy to expand that out to other people. Adding sex into the mix isn't something he's interested in, but if he pretends it's another job and that Octavia isn't involved he can get through the day with something resembling grace.

There are already about a dozen people in the event space, which is surprisingly light and clean, the same way the shop is surprisingly light and clean. Octavia and Lincoln are setting up a table at the front of the room while two women look on, and there are a few assorted people elsewhere in the room, some there in pairs, a few on their own, nobody making much eye contact with people they don't already know.

“You new?” asks a woman he doesn't recognize, one of the ones on her own.

“I'm security,” he says, and he can already hear himself getting defensive about it. “I'm just here as a favor to Octavia to make sure it runs smoothly.”

“So you're new,” she says, and she's grinning in a way that gets his hackles up. “I'm Raven, I've been to shit like this before, but Octavia was worried about selling enough slots and I figured a refresher couldn't hurt, plus they might end up using me if they decide to do a demo about positions for people with old injuries that need to be worked around.”

“Right. Good.” He puts his hands behind his back instead of in his pockets, falling into the default security guard position most people take when they aren't on rounds or stuck behind a desk watching monitors. The workshop doesn't start for another fifteen minutes, but it can't hurt to be professional.

Raven snorts. “Good luck.” She raises her voice. “Octavia, security's here!”

Octavia looks up and laughs, and then she says a few words to Lincoln and trots across the room. “Tell me that's how you're introducing yourself to people, that's hilarious.”

“How else am I supposed to introduce myself?”

“As my dipshit brother, maybe. I see you're already charming Raven.” She looks over at Raven. “Did you bring anyone to tie up?”

She shrugs. “I'll either sit it out or pick someone else here without company.”

“Let me know if you want to practice on Bell.”

“I am not a practice dummy, I'm just here to make sure no one's an asshole,” he says, as firmly as he can.

Octavia just grins. “Yeah, including you! Wouldn't it be against some kind of law of chivalry to leave Raven sitting here like a bondage wallflower?”

“Don't push it,” he says, quietly enough that Raven can't hear, and Octavia drops the smile long enough to give him a serious, searching look and then a nod.

“Okay. Did you want to go up front and meet the presenters?” She gestures at the women at the front of the room, a blonde one in jeans and a t-shirt talking with Lincoln and one with brown hair and a lot of leather and eyeliner.

“No, I'm good. I figure I'll stay here near the door in case anyone needs me, and you know how to get my attention if I don't catch something and you need me.”

“Right, my brother the hero.” Octavia kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, Bellamy, it means a lot.”

“Just here as security,” he says, already knowing they're both going to get sick of him saying it, and doesn't even mind that Raven laughs too when he says it.

*

There are less than twenty participants in all, but that's plenty considering it's a sex workshop. Most of them are there in couples, but there's one group of three that has their arms companionably around each other, and there are a few singles like Raven (who picks the handsomest of the free men out with no trouble at all), who shuffle around the edges of the room awkwardly, shying away from Bellamy.

“Let's get started,” says the woman with the leather when they're only a few minutes past the hour. “I'm Lexa, and I'm running this workshop. You may have heard of me as the owner of Underground or as an occasional professional dominatrix, both of which are true. And no one in this room ought to have trouble with that, I hope.”

“Lexa is an expert, and it's an honor to have her here,” says Octavia, who's amazingly professional and collected now that the workshop is starting and Lincoln is in the main part of the shop. “Feel free to ask her about her professional work in the Q and A at the end, and if you're interested and excel in this workshop she may give you an invitation to the club. Clarke, do you want to introduce yourself?”

The blonde woman looks up from laying out various kinds of binding materials on the table and smiles briefly at Octavia. “Thank you. I'm Clarke, everyone, and I'm here to assist Lexa and also to be a safety consultant. I'm a medical professional, so nobody here is going to get hurt on my watch and I'm going to teach you how to use the techniques here without getting hurt and how to deal with any rope burns or bruises or strained muscles once you've finished.”

Some of the participants, especially the single ones, were looking intimidated after Lexa introduced herself, but Clarke makes them relax. That's probably the point of having the two of them leading the workshop, and Bellamy notes that and hopes he'll remember to congratulate Octavia on it later. Even if she isn't the one presenting, from what he can tell she's doing well so far.

Lexa steps forward again. “We're going to start with some basic ground rules for kink in general and for bondage in specific, and we're going to go through potential materials you can use to tie someone up or be tied up with, and the advantages and disadvantages of them, and after we break for lunch we'll try a few basic knots, and some wrist and arm bindings. Please be patient if you've done this before, we want to make sure that anyone new gets a thorough education.”

Bellamy finds, to his relief, that he's bored for most of the morning, always a good thing in a security job. Lexa and Clarke discuss rules, how to ascertain that everything is consensual and unlikely to do harm, and then they lay out their materials and discuss those. By the end of the morning, everyone is a little more comfortable, even the people there on their own, and Bellamy doesn't feel guilty about escaping the shop for lunch at a dingy cafe halfway down the block.

When he comes back, there are desks set out throughout the room, the kind he recognizes from high school when there were a few that weren't bolted to chairs, an uncomfortable memory considering that there's a length of black nylon rope set out on each desk. Bellamy takes up his position in the back of the room and watches everyone coming back in and choosing their work stations.

“We're going to teach you a basic wrist hold,” says Clarke when everyone is settled into their spots. “It should hold against some struggling, but it's easy to get out of if you know what part of the knot to pull.”

“Watch,” says Lexa, and loops the rope around Clarke's wrists a few times, tying it up slowly so everyone can see how she does it. They're easy about it, like they've done it a hundred times, and Clarke holds her hands up in the air after it's done and pulls, demonstrates how much force it can take. “Clarke? Anything to say about being on the receiving end of this?”

“It's just loose enough and has just few enough loops that it can cut off your circulation a little if you struggle against it for too hard and too long, but that's true of most bondage, so you just have to be careful of that. If you're in it and you really want out, don't struggle. Find this loop,” she says, demonstrating, “and tug it, and you're free.”

“Now, Clarke, you do it for me, and we'll go around teaching you all how it works.” Clarke does, businesslike and efficient, and Lexa holds up her hands. “Clarke looped hers a little tighter than I did mine, and that's something you have to negotiate with your partner.” She barely glances at the trio in the back. “Or partners. When I'm being tied up, I like it tight, but Clarke enjoys some space to work against, so that's a matter of opinion. Some positions and bindings we'll show you over the coming sessions are going to have to be tight or loose to work, but this one can work at a few different tensions. We'll help you find which ones you're comfortable with. Is everyone ready to try? You can ask us for help, and Octavia knows how to do this one too so you can flag her down as well.”

“Remember, when you're being tied up, stay as still as you can but don't tense up,” says Clarke, already starting out to the first table in the front. “And if you start feeling more constrained than you want to be, tell whoever is tying you up so they can stop. If you're here to experiment there's no shame in not liking it after all. If you tie your partner or partners we would like you to at least try having it done to you as well, even if you're comfortable in the dynamics of your relationship the other way. It's good to see things from both sides.”

“As a professional dom I would never do anything to anyone subbing for me that I haven't had done to myself,” says Lexa, at another table. “Now, feel free to help each other, but ask us if you're unsure at all.”

Bellamy stays where he is, hands behind his back, while everyone else starts fumbling their way through the knots. Raven, he notices, is having no trouble tying up the man she's with, and one member of the group of three seems to know what he's doing, but almost everyone else is hesitant, looping their ropes around the wrong way, though Octavia and Clarke and Lexa are straightening them out quickly, one by one.

Clarke is the first one to make it to the back of the room, and she ends up right in front of him and frowns when she sees him. “Are you just going to stand there all day? We can't force participation, but if you're just here to watch, that's—”

“Didn't Octavia tell you?” Of course she didn't, she probably thought it was funny. “I'm her brother Bellamy, I'm here as security, not a participant.”

“Well, you are intimidating the participants, Bellamy. If you could please just sit down or join in, as you can see everyone is a little self-conscious starting out here, and you standing here glaring at them isn't helping.”

“I'm not glaring.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Of course you aren't. You just look like you hate everything that's happening in this room because that's what your face does naturally.” She lowers her voice. “If you disapprove of this or if you want it but you're ashamed of it, that's your own business, but this is a safe space and Lexa and I can take care of security issues ourselves if you're going to be like this.”

“I only disapprove because it's weird watching my little sister tie people up,” he says just as quietly. “This is just how I look when I'm keeping an eye on things.”

“Then stop, or I'll start using you for demonstrations.”

“That's not a bad idea,” says Octavia, coming up next to them, and smiles hopefully at Bellamy when he starts shaking his head. “Look, Bell, you're being such a help, but these people all seem like they're okay and you are a kind of hulking presence in the back here. I'm not saying you have to be a guinea pig, but maybe if Clarke or Lexa needs someone and I'm not available you could help?”

“Drawing the line there, Octavia, I don't care how much begging you do.”

“If he's not interested he's not interested,” says Clarke, to his surprise, giving Octavia a reproachful look. “I know you're his sister and you can tease, but I'm not going to force anyone if they're intimidated or not into it.”

She's turning away, but Octavia is grinning, and Bellamy can't stop himself saying “Excuse me, I am not intimidated by a piece of rope.”

He knows it's stupid the second he says it, and he's only right when Clarke turns right back around, eyebrows up. “You've been standing back here all day with your hands behind your back like you think you'll get roped if you let anyone know you have wrists. It seems like you might be intimidated.”

Bellamy grits his teeth. “I'm not.” Octavia has gone silent, just looking between the two of them when all he wants her to do is defuse the situation and let him get through the rest of the day without anyone bothering him so he can call in Octavia's favor in the most embarrassing way possible sometime soon.

“Of course.”

And Bellamy will stand for a lot, but he won't stand for being dismissed like that, so before he can stop himself, he crosses his arms and says “Then I'll prove it.”

“I was going to ask Octavia if she would help us demonstrate this next one, but you can do it instead. Unless you don't want to.”

He should say no, tell Octavia the workshop clearly doesn't need security, and leave. But Bellamy has never backed down from a challenge in his life, even when he should, so he straightens his shoulders and drops his hands to his sides. “Fine. One demonstration, because I'm not scared and Octavia might as well owe me another favor.”

“So many favors,” says Octavia. “Although I could argue that you got yourself into this one.”

“Remember that when I buy a house and need help moving.” Bellamy looks back at Clarke. “What do you need me to do, then?”

Clarke raises her voice. “How's everyone doing?”

There's a chorus of voices throughout the room, mostly enthusiastic and a few unsure. “We'll review that one again before the end of the day,” says Lexa, back at the front of the room. “For now we'd like to teach you a more steady arm bind. Clarke has a volunteer for us, I believe, so he can have his back to us while Clarke and I talk to you.”

Raven, to one side of the room, laughs. “At least we'll have a good view.”

“Good, he's tall,” says Lexa, and doesn't seem to have an opinion on him other than that. “What's your name, if you don't mind?”

“Bellamy. I'm Octavia's brother,” he says, crossing the room. If he's involved now, he's at least going to do it with confidence.

“Please stand facing away from the audience, Bellamy, and tell us if you feel uncomfortable or like we're hurting you at any point,” says Clarke, falling back into being an instructor instead of needling him. “This is a more secure bind, ideal for keeping someone's hands behind their back without straining anything, but it's just as easy to pull free as the first one and I'll tell you what to pull so you can get out yourself as soon as it's in place. Good?”

“Of course.”

Clarke seems happy to take that as consent, because the next thing he knows she's gently moving him around, putting his hands behind his back again, arms close together. “This position puts strain on the shoulders if it lasts too long for a lot of people,” says Clarke. “Make sure that whoever you're putting in it relaxes, that they don't have any shoulder injuries, and that you check in frequently to make sure the discomfort isn't too severe. Bellamy, don't let me pull your shoulders too far back.”

Bellamy can't see what's going on, which makes him more nervous than he was expecting, but the nylon rope is soft around his wrists and then in a web up his forearms, and Clarke is steady and efficient. Lexa is narrating each loop and twist, and Clarke is going slowly, moving away in between steps so everyone can see what she's doing.

“Okay,” she says very quietly in his ear when she's finished, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I'm going to move your hands a little so you can find where to free yourself. You with me?”

“I'm fine.”

Clarke just grunts, and she's gentler than he's expecting when she helps him twist his hand around and grab the knotted end of the rope and tug, everything coming free. She takes the rope, and he drops his hands to his sides, shrugging to take the tension out of his shoulders. They hurt a little from holding still, and when he turns to look at Clarke, she's frowning at him, looking from his arms to his shoulders to his face. “Thank you for demonstrating,” she says. “You can go back to what you were doing.” She raises her voice. “Everyone, please give Bellamy a round of applause for volunteering, and then Lexa and I will show you that again and you can all try it yourselves.”

Bellamy goes back to his position at the back of the room, but he keeps his hands in his pockets, and he tunes out most of the rest of the workshop. Everyone seems to learn the knots fairly easily, with help from Clarke and Lexa and Octavia, and by the end of the afternoon they have three or four under their belts with the promise of more next week.

At the end of the afternoon, people start leaving, laughing with each other and nodding at Bellamy on their way out. Raven winks at him, and she's still got her arm around the man she was practicing with all day.

Octavia is at the front of the room talking to Lexa, and Bellamy wants to say hello to her before he goes anywhere, so he can't exactly say he's surprised when Clarke comes up next to him and leans against the wall at his side.

“Can I help you?” he finally asks.

“Are you okay?”

His muscles are still a little tight, but he isn't going to discuss that with her. “I'm not exactly breakable.”

“Right.” She's frowning, and she lowers her voice. “I don't know if it's that you were in front of everyone, and I should have checked in better, but you can't do that if you do decide to engage in bondage in the privacy of your life. If you're tense like that, if you put so much pressure on your ropes, you're going to hurt yourself.”

“Are you saying I'm a bad, what, submissive?”

Clarke looks at him steadily, doesn't let him laugh it off. “I'm saying that your discomfort showed and if it's something you want to discuss with someone you trust you're going to need to learn how to relax.”

“Thanks, but I like to keep things pretty vanilla in the bedroom, unless someone brings along handcuffs.”

Clarke isn't mollified. “Handcuffs aren't actually that good to use, especially not in—or on—the hands of the inexperienced. That's why they don't sell them here.”

Bellamy blinks. “They don't?”

“No, they ...” Clarke looks at the front of the room and then back at Bellamy. “She did say you hadn't been here before, but she also talks about what a supportive brother you are, so I didn't think that was true.”

That stings, more than being told that he somehow failed at being tied up. “I love Octavia, and I'm glad she has a place she's happy, but we're already all over each other's lives, and I had a protective phase, the sex thing is kind of part of a complicated issue.”

“I get that.” She softens. “You should come sometime when she's doing more than coordinating an event, though. See her on the shop floor. I met her her first week here, and she was still figuring everything out, but she's really good at this, and she really loves it. She makes a really good educator on the subject.”

“That's O. If she's interested she'll work until she's an expert, and if she's not, to hell with it.” He glances at Octavia, who's still talking to Lexa, and then back at Clarke. “Thanks. I'll keep it in mind. There's still weird sibling baggage there, but I'll see about it.”

“I can understand that. There's a friend of mine from when I was a kid who really hates hearing about it when I do this kind of thing, he's the closest thing to a brother I've got.” Clarke stands up straight again instead of leaning against the wall. “I know it's none of my business, but keep yourself safe if you're going to be on the receiving end of bondage or dominance. I wouldn't have thought about letting you volunteer if I knew it was going to make you uncomfortable like that. And try a hot towel over your shoulders.”

She walks off before he can formulate an answer for that, and a second later Octavia is there, beaming at him and talking about the success of her first event, and how grateful she is, and she's going to take him out for dinner.

There's a weird, queasy feeling in Bellamy's stomach, the same one he always gets when he's embarrassed himself or let someone down, but he lets himself shake it off and lets Octavia drag him back into the shop, where Lincoln smiles the second he sees Octavia and Bellamy pretends to be grudging about saying that he can come to dinner too.

*

Bellamy doesn't let himself get talked into doing security for a second week of Octavia's workshop, but he does go to Polis Intimates that Friday towards the end of her shift.

The group of three from the workshop are standing in front of the shelves of porn debating between titles and Raven is leaning against the counter talking to Octavia, who brightens up the second she sees Bellamy. “Bell, you didn't tell me you were coming to visit! What can I do for you?”

“Just came to see you at work, that's all.” It's not like the porn shop he stopped in when he was too young for it on a dare, where even when things were fine they had the aura of being sticky and there was an intimidating wall of dildos, but he still keeps his hands in his pockets, unwilling to touch anything. “I thought you might want to do dinner.”

The way she smiles makes him want to kick himself for never coming to visit her at work before. “So you're going to stand around and inspect the vibes for half an hour?”

“Hell with that,” says Raven. “If he's inspecting vibes, he's inspecting mine.”

Bellamy instantly regrets this visit. “I'm not inspecting anyone's vibrators, thanks. I'll just be over there by the ...” He waves at a wall full of powders and feathers. “Edible stuff.”

“It's like he's handing me the line about the oral fixation,” Raven says to Octavia, and then grins at Bellamy again. “No, come on, Big Blake, help me out here. I don't get to make too many people with prostates try my vibes.”

“I haven't tried any, and I'm not really interested in being part of the trial group, thanks.”

“He's new,” says Octavia, all of a sudden acting like the older sibling. “Tell him about the business, though, Raven, he'll care about that way more than the newest vibe.”

“Maybe I can segue.” Raven is leaning on a cane today, and she moves away from the counter and takes Bellamy's arm to prod him over to the vibrator display, and a few utilitarian black ones in the middle. “Check it out, best one the market, Shuttle Vibes, based right here in the city. Not to brag or anything, but I'm the electronic sex toy goddess. Four different models, highly customizable, usable for people with whatever genitals, and I'm working on a remote controlled version, that's in testing right now.” She pulls one off the display and hands it to him, then flips a switch when it's in his hand. “Fun fact, also good for muscle strain, if you need to justify the purchase.”

Bellamy turns it back off before the vibrations start making his arm tingle. “Good to know. So, you make vibrators?”

“And other sex toys. Tinkered with mine in college, raved about it to Clarke and she asked me to soup one up for her, and it kind of built up from there. Life's pretty good for a small businesswoman.”

There's no bell on the shop door, but Bellamy still hears the door open, and he can't help glancing even if it's probably not great etiquette to stare at people entering a sex shop, even one like this. It's Clarke, of course, because of everyone in the city who might walk in it had to be her. She looks at Bellamy for a second before she focuses in on Octavia. “Octavia, hi, I thought I would stop by to check on a few things for the workshop tomorrow. Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you. Also, those three were asking about bondage videos, apparently into trying something a little deeper than last week, maybe give them some recommendations? I did, but I figure if the expert walks in may as well make use.”

Bellamy turns his attention back to Raven, who's grinning at him. “Coming back to the workshop tomorrow?” she asks. “Sensation play tomorrow, and a bondage review. You made a really good guinea pig. Plus tomorrow's the aftercare lecture, people will probably pet your hair a lot.”

“Thanks, but I'm busy.” Having his hair stroked in public sounds significantly more embarrassing than being tied up, and Octavia hasn't pushed him about coming back. He's going to take the out with relief.

“Your loss. Something new every week, come back if you want. I figure if Octavia is your sister you can get in for free, hard to want to get that to waste.” She turns to where Clarke is talking to the group of three. “Monty, don't let her talk you into that shit that takes sixty yards of rope, it looks cool but it takes forever.” She glances back at Bellamy. “Mind if I abandon you?”

“Please feel free.”

That, of course, leaves him standing alone and awkward by the vibrators while everyone else in the store clusters by the video shelves talking way too intensely about bondage, Raven advocating for a suspension swing that she's apparently designing. It's all a little surreal, but Octavia is happy, gesticulating, asking Clarke questions and pulling videos from the shelves, showing the backs to the trio asking the question. She got the job when she started dating Lincoln, but she really does love it, and it makes it hard to feel weird about it, with that as the framework.

Indra is the one to come in for the evening shift, ten minutes before the end of Octavia's shift, and Octavia goes to meet her at the counter, trailing Raven and the three who have a collection of about five instructional videos. Bellamy, by then, has made it over to the safer but baffling waters of the lube and condom recommendations, and he's not quite surprised that Clarke appears at his side, since she isn't with everyone else.

“I know it's not my business,” she says, “but I'm glad you came.”

Octavia is laughing, pointing at one of the videos and making gestures that are far too illustrative for his taste, winking at the woman of the trio, who's the one pulling her wallet out, smacking her partners' hands away from their wallets. “I am too, but you're definitely right about it not being your business,” he says.

“Right.” Bellamy isn't looking at Clarke, but he can still see her shifting her weight in his peripheral vision, fidgeting. “Are you coming to tomorrow's workshop?”

“Well, you clearly don't need security, and like I said, I'm pretty vanilla. And apparently a shitty submissive, like you said.”

“That is not what I said. And you could always explore dominance, as long as you follow the rule that you don't do anything you wouldn't have done to you.”

Bellamy blinks, brought up short. “I'm busy tomorrow,” he says, because that's easier than trying to explain that somehow, even in the past week, it's never occurred to him that he might be interested in dominating anyone, or tying anyone up.

“Bell,” Octavia calls from the register, and Bellamy tries not to show his relief as he turns to face her. “Indra is letting me off five minutes early, I'm starving, so let me grab my jacket and then we can go do dinner.”

Clarke waves him off, so he nods at her and goes, glad to have been in to visit Octavia and even gladder to be leaving.

*

The next night, he goes out even though it's been a while since he really enjoyed the pick-up scene and brings home a woman, tells her he wouldn't mind at all if she wanted to go rough.

Bellamy comes hard, with his wrists pinned over his head by her hands, and looks at the scratches on his chest in the mirror the next morning and makes her breakfast before he pointedly doesn't give her his number and waits for her to leave.

*

Bellamy goes back to Polis Intimates when he knows Octavia isn't working, because he doesn't know what else to do, and Bellamy doesn't like leaving parts of himself unknown and unexplored, not to himself. There's the internet, obviously, but that mostly seems to be full of debates about _Fifty Shades of Grey_ and assumptions that he knows more than he does.

Anya is working at the counter when he comes in, and she raises her eyebrows when she sees him. “Octavia isn't here.”

“I know.” She's with Lincoln and they have plans to go out to some new club, so he's safe from her coming in while he buys _Submission for Dummies_ or whatever the hell else they have.

“And we don't need security.”

“I _know_ , okay?”

Anya gives him a tiny smile. “Just as long as you're sure. Let me know if you want help finding anything.”

Bellamy doesn't go to the books right away. He wanders through the whole store instead, hands in his pockets, looking at lingerie and toys and special displays, including one with strap-on harnesses and dildos with one of the discreet staff recommendation plaques next to one of them and Lincoln's name on it, which is more than Bellamy ever wanted to know about his sister's sex life.

When the door opens, he immediately regrets putting off going to the books, because of fucking course it's Clarke and Raven coming in, laughing about something. Bellamy looks away, a stupid high-school impulse to pretend that if he can't see them they can't see him, but Raven likes him, for some reason, and she detours from Clarke's path to the counter and comes over to him. “Big Blake, you're practically living here these days, seems like. You missed a good workshop the other day.”

“This is only my third time in this building,” he says.

“And Octavia isn't working, so you're here for something for yourself.” She grins at him. “Good on you, let me know if you need recommendations. I'm a lot less scary than Anya.”

“Raven,” says Clarke from near the register, “did you want to try that wrist bind while we're here? Anya says the back room is free and if you know it before Saturday it would be a lot of help.”

“Lexa can't come this week,” says Raven to Bellamy. “Private client, long-standing arrangement, but Clarke has had a lot of requests for some more bondage, so I'm assisting.” She eyes him up and down. “Are you in a hurry? I can practice on you, and Clarke can watch what I'm doing so it will go a lot faster, and Anya can stay at the register.”

Bellamy knows the smart answer, which is a no, a firm one. Octavia isn't here to push it, and Raven may be full of jokes but he doubts she would try again if he was honest about it. But he's curious, now, and Bellamy has never exactly been a book learner. “As long as it doesn't take too long. I have a few other things to do tonight.”

Clarke gives him a sharp look, brows furrowed. “You're sure?”

“Fully informed consent, I'll try not to fuck up and strain my shoulders.”

“Fine. Come on, then.”

Raven looks like she wants to say something, but she looks between the two of them instead and then nods before she starts leading the way into the back room. All the desks from the other week are pushed up against the wall, and there's more of the nylon rope he remembers stuck in a box in one corner.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Jacket off,” says Raven. “And I'm going to sit with you standing in front of me because my leg doesn't want to do shit today, you'll just have to restrain your urge to give me a lap dance.”

Bellamy takes off his jacket, tossing it onto the desks in the corner, and then pulls over a chair while they're both busy taking off their coats. He lets Clarke choose the rope, since she's the one with the experience, and he lets Raven flip on the light in the room. He's glad about the bright fluorescents. They make it all seem much less intimate.

“Just like in class the other day, Bellamy,” says Clarke, gesturing him over. “I'll do it first, slowly, and I'll narrate to Raven, and then I'll coach her through it a time or two. It's another behind your back, which is why it's hard to do with just the two of us. This one is harder to get out of on your own, but I'm not going to keep you there any longer than you want, so just tell me to stop if you need to.”

Bellamy sighs and takes up the same position, only to start when Clarke takes his arms and moves them into a position she apparently likes better. “Sorry,” he says when she stops.

“My fault. I should have warned you I would have to move you. Is that comfortable? No strain?”

“It's fine.”

Clarke hums, and he can't tell from looking at her but he knows she isn't satisfied because a second later she adjusts his arms again, and then his shoulders, pressing down gently when he hadn't even realized the way they were creeping up towards his ears. “Relax,” she says, and starts tying him up.

It's easier to relax if he doesn't focus much on what she's saying, just on the fact that she's talking. He doesn't need to know the loops and knots of the rope, so he tunes her out, just pays attention to the rise and fall of the words and Raven's occasional questions while she wraps his forearms up in the rope. He's surprised when Clarke stops and tugs gently on the rope, showing that it holds, maybe, and then undoes the whole thing in a few easy pulls. “I'm good,” he says before either one of them can ask. “Go ahead, Raven.”

This time, Clarke's hand stays on his shoulder and she still talks through it, instructing Raven. Raven is a little slower, a little sloppier, but Bellamy isn't focusing on that so much so much as the sounds of them talking and the way one of the lights overhead flickers sometimes.

When Raven is finished, checking on the security of the knot, he keeps quiet this time. It's not quite as secure as Clarke's knot, but Clarke is the one who has to approve it, not him.

He only realizes the silence is stretching out, though, when Raven breaks it. “Shit. Clarke.”

Bellamy is surprised when Clarke comes around him to stand in front of him, frowning, but his brain feels slow, nothing coming to mind right away to say, and her frown only deepens. “Bellamy, hey. Are you okay there?” She looks over his shoulder. “Untie him, Raven, we'll practice later this week.”

The knot comes undone quickly, and this time Clarke grabs his elbows and pulls his arms to his sides. “I'm fine,” he says, because she still looks ridiculously concerned for something that's really just him spacing out while they were working. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize. We should have ...” She breaks off and looks away for a second. “Sometimes when people are being dominated, they start feeling a little disconnected, a little like a trance. The common term is subspace. It looks like you're there, a little, so we've got to keep you here until you're yourself again. Let's find you a chair.”

Bellamy manages to feel distantly annoyed at that, though he's not sure if he's annoyed at her or at Raven or at himself. “I don't need a chair.”

“Well, you're getting one.” She relaxes a little, though.

“My leg will take me for a few, I'll go sit on a desk if I need to,” says Raven, and there's rustling behind him and then they're both pushing him down into the chair, leaving him feeling a little adrift with both of them suddenly taller than he is. “You are full of surprises, Big Blake.”

“Raven.” Clarke looks back at Bellamy. “Do you need me to call anyone?”

He shakes his head. “I took the bus here, I won't be driving or anything, and like hell do I want anyone calling O about this.”

“That's good.” A smile flickers on Clarke's face before the frown comes back. Bellamy is almost glad about it, if only because her worry is exasperating enough that it's restarting his brain. “Is this the first time this has happened?”

“Yes.” It's impossible to be sure, but Bellamy can't remember spacing out while he had sex before. “Sorry, you were just trying to practice.”

“You didn't do anything wrong,” says Clarke, and glances off to the side. Bellamy does it too, to find Raven backing off a few steps, watching them looking more serious than he's seen her yet. “Do you want water? A snack?”

“I'm pretty sure the closest thing to eat is chocolate body frosting and I'm mildly hypnotized, not pregnant. I'm fine.” He feels more like himself with every word, and when he glances at Raven she's grinning like she knows it.

“This is still my responsibility, so I'll keep asking.” Clarke is relaxing too, though, and that eases Bellamy back into the room a little more. “I would offer to drive you home, but I don't have my car right now. So we'll just stay for a minute.”

Bellamy feels like he's being catered to, which is more uncomfortable than realizing just how spaced out he got just from his arms being tied behind his back. He doesn't like being coddled. “It's really fine.”

“Oh my God, men,” says Raven, but she's laughing. “I know you're fine, Blake, but take a load off for a minute or two and let Clarke fuss, or she'll feel guilty all night.”

“This isn't funny, Raven.”

“It isn't your fault he went under that quick. He said it's never happened before, clearly he was just overwhelmed with your bondage powers. Or mine, I guess, but I don't have a lot of illusions.”

“I was here to find a book on this kind of thing,” Bellamy blurts, and immediately wants to take it back when they both look at him. “Submitting, or whatever,” he adds. “Since it seems to be presenting itself in my life lately.”

“You aren't obligated to do anything because your body responds to things in certain ways,” says Clarke.

Bellamy sighs. “I'm smart enough to know it isn't hard-wired in my psyche or anything, but I haven't exactly minded this, other than it happening by accident with strangers.”

“Clarke, if it happened this fast, it's probably better for him to know, right? Plus, let's get him feeling experimental, I've got that new guy Wick trying the vibe and probably Lincoln will too, but Wick is an engineer and Lincoln works here, I could use someone less knowledgeable.”

“I really don't want to know that about my sister's boyfriend.”

“You are adorable,” says Raven. “Seriously, I am going to give you my number. When you want to try it, let me know. But do not interpret this as a come-on, because Wick is angling for a date and I'm thinking I might go for it.”

Clarke looks away from Bellamy, startled. “You didn't tell me that.”

“Can't pine forever, right?”

“No, you can't.” Clarke turns back to Bellamy. “Sorry. How are you doing?”

“I told you, I'm fine.” And it's more true every time he says it. With the return of reality comes embarrassment that he responded so quickly and easily, but that's his worry, not theirs. “And I've used up all the time before the bus I was meaning to take home, I'm pretty sure, so I should go.”

Clarke frowns at him again, arms crossed, eyes darting all over his face, before she finally nods. “I'm going to give you my number. Let me know if you want to debrief or if you want recommendations for a book or some reputable websites about all of this.”

Raven, over where his jacket is, tosses him his phone, and he catches it easily, glad that his reflexes are that sharp even when his arms still feel a little funny unbound. He puts his passcode in and then hands the phone to Clarke for her to put her number in. “You too, if you insist,” he tells Raven, who grins like she knows that's as enthusiastic an invitation as she's going to get and gestures at Clarke, letting her do it.

“I'll walk you to the bus stop,” says Raven, and shakes her head at Clarke when she starts to object. “The nice strong man can give me an arm if I need it, it's two blocks, and you needed to talk to Anya. He will text you if he wants to and I will very subtly lecture him about subdrop on the walk.”

Clarke sighs, but she nods, and Raven brings their coats over from the desks. Bellamy finally stands up, and shakes off the last of the odd feeling. Clarke nods again, like she knows it, and the three of them walk out of the back room, Anya glancing up at them as they put their coats on, in the middle of glaring at a few college guys who are elbowing each other over by the strap-on display.

Raven does lecture him about subdrop the whole way to the bus stop, and Bellamy lets her, but other than leftover confusion and embarrassment, he doesn't think he feels it.

He does text Clarke the next morning asking for the recommendations she promised, and gets a few texts full of links back. He texts back a quick _thank you_ and proceeds to ignore them.

*

“Hey, Bell, what are you doing tonight?”

Bellamy sighs into the phone. “No.”

Octavia laughs. “It's nothing bad, I promise.”

“You say that, and then I get tied up.”

“Nobody's getting tied up. A group from the store is going out to the new bar downtown tonight, and Raven said I should invite you, and I thought why not? You're starting to meet some people, and I'm inviting Monty and his boyfriend and girlfriend too, and he's inviting a friend of his who isn't involved in sex stuff at all yet so you won't be alone.”

Bellamy wants to ask if Clarke is going to be there, but considering he's not sure if that would make him want to come more or less, he's going to keep it to himself. “Tell me when and where. I can't make any promises, but I'll give it a shot.”

“The bar is the Mountain,” Octavia says, and she sounds like she's grinning, because she's won again. “And we're meeting there at eight thirty. Monty and Harper were talking about maybe going dancing after a few drinks, but I won't make you come to that if you don't want to.”

“You're so considerate.” Bellamy is barely home from work, and he looks longingly at the library book sitting on his couch, which he's been trying to read all week, but it's been too long since he was out with anyone but Murphy, and he wouldn't call Murphy the best of company. If it's a little nerve-wracking that he's probably going to see Clarke and Raven again and a little embarrassing that he's tagging along with his little sister's friends like she used to tag along with his, he can ignore that. “I might be a little late, I need a shower, but I'll probably see you there. I'll text you if I decide I'm too tired.”

“You're the best,” says Octavia, and lets Bellamy hang up after only a few more exchanges.

Bellamy keeps his phone in his hand and looks at the links Clarke sent him again, all still unopened. He hasn't texted her back, and she hasn't texted him again, but he's chatted a little with Raven this week, awkward texts while they feel each other out, just what counts as a joke and what doesn't. She hasn't brought up her vibrators, but he knows it's only a matter of time. Probably tonight.

He showers, mostly because if he lets himself sit down with his book he'll never get up again, and he eats leftover baked beans for dinner. When he finishes, he still has at least half an hour to go before he really needs to leave for anywhere, so he does give in to the call of the book and only looks up forty-five minutes later when he gets a text from Octavia saying she and Lincoln are outside his building.

“You didn't have to pick me up,” he says when he makes it outside with his wallet and shoes, nodding at Lincoln in the driver's seat and tugging on Octavia's hair before he gets in the back.

“I drove to work this morning,” says Lincoln, “and your place is between Octavia's and the bar, so we thought it made sense.” He waits until Bellamy buckles in before he speaks again. “I'm glad you're coming.”

Bellamy blinks, startled, because he and Lincoln respect each other and their respective love for Octavia at this point, but Bellamy was under no illusions about Lincoln actually _liking_ him. “Well, thanks for the ride. I would have been late, I had a book.”

“I figured,” says Octavia, smug, and returns to staring at the streets outside the window. Octavia always likes to know where she is.

When they reach the bar, there's already a table of people who are becoming familiar to Bellamy in one corner, all of them laughing about something. Clarke is there, of course, and Raven, as well as Raven's partner from the workshop, Anya, Monty and Harper and whatever their boyfriend's name is and someone who doesn't look familiar at all who seems to be flirting really ineptly with the waitress. Even Lexa is there, sitting in between Clarke and Anya with her arms crossed.

“Blakes!” says Raven, lifting her mostly-empty glass of something in their direction and gesturing them over. “Prove a point for me, you know more about amateur porn than I do.”

Bellamy pauses halfway into his chair. “I am fairly sure that I don't, actually.”

Raven waves her hand at him, impatient. “Not you, those ones. There's amateur stuff that's way better quality than what's in the store, right?”

For a second, Bellamy wonders if he should ask why Lincoln is being counted as a Blake and why Octavia and Lincoln are apparently experts on amateur porn, but he decides that he doesn't want to know, so he looks around instead, and since he's sitting next to Monty and Harper's boyfriend, sticks his hand out to shake. “I'm Bellamy, I don't know if I've introduced myself.”

“You haven't, but Octavia has talked about you. I'm Miller.” He nods to his side. “And that's Monty and Harper, and our friend Jasper.” Who's probably the one staring longingly at the waitress while she gives their drink order to the bartender.

Miller is reassuringly normal at a table full of people whose conversation moves from porn to sex swings to movies they want to see, both pornographic and not, and Bellamy finds that he enjoys talking to him, and Monty and Harper as well when they break off their other conversations, and that almost an hour and two beers pass quickly.

“We should go, if we're going to go to the club,” says Anya eventually during a lull in the conversation. “Are we staying or going?”

“Going,” says Octavia. “I can't sit still for the whole night, let's go dance.” She looks around the table. “Unless people want to stay?”

Bellamy keeps quiet as the vote goes around—Clarke and Jasper are the only two who seem reluctant, but Monty elbows Jasper and the two of them have a silent conversation that seems to win Jasper over and Clarke stands up when everyone else stands up, pausing to talk for a second with Lexa before she puts her coat on.

“It's close enough to walk,” says Octavia, poking Bellamy in the shoulder when he isn't quick enough to stand up. “And I won't even make you stay long if you don't want to. I'll pay your cab fare if you want.”

“O, it's fine. I have been to clubs before, believe it or not, and I'm not quite enough of an old man that I'm going to want earmuffs and talk about the music you kids are listening to these days.”

“I hope you're not,” says Raven's friend, who seems improbably to be named Wick. “Because I'm pretty sure I'm your age and I am not an old man.”

“I hope he is,” says Monty, “because I really want to see someone wearing earmuffs at a club. Maybe it would become the new hipster fashion statement.”

Octavia laughs and starts telling some story about an old boyfriend who accidentally started a fashion trend at school and hated it, and that gets them all into their coats and out into the night, which is chilly enough to make Bellamy put his hands in his pockets but not chilly enough that their breath shows. They're chatty and comfortable together, Raven walking with one arm slung over Wick's shoulders and the other over Jasper's, mussing his hair while she teases him about the waitress, and even quiet Lexa has her head bent close to Anya's talking about something.

Bellamy is happy to walk on his own, but he can't exactly say he's surprised when he finds himself falling into step with Clarke, the two of them bringing up the rear.

“You've had a good week?” she asks after a block and a half walked in silence.

“Yes. Just worked, that's all.”

“Me too.” He looks over at her. “ER nurse.”

“I guess that explains you covering the first aid portion of everything.” He sighs when she glances at him. “Security guard, I think I've told you before. At an office building during the day.”

“Right, I think you said what, just not where.”

Clarke doesn't seem to have any more to say, and Bellamy doesn't want to talk about anything else with everyone in earshot, so they walk silently the rest of the way to the club. Clarke is shorter than him, but it's easy to match pace anyway, to fall into some kind of rhythm. Bellamy almost regrets it when they reach the club, which doesn't have much of a line. The bouncer seems to recognize Lexa and Anya, leading the pack, and all of them get waved in quickly.

Monty and Jasper are already singing along with whatever song is playing along by the time they reach the dance floor, and Monty grabs Harper and Miller and the three of them disappear into the crowd within moments. “We should find a table,” says Lincoln, raising his voice over the music. “A rally point.”

“I'm on it,” Raven says. “No one denies the girl with the leg brace a table.”

They all follow Raven to a table, Lexa and Anya peeling off on the way to go to the bar for drinks and the rest of them staking out their space. To Bellamy's surprise, Octavia sits down in Lincoln's lap instead of dragging him to the dance floor. “Aren't you going out there?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Plenty of time, I'm not feeling the music yet. But you should go if you want to.”

Bellamy isn't always in the mood to dance, but tonight the bass throbbing in the floor is making him fidget and want to get up and out, so he stands up. “Anyone else coming?”

Raven waves him off. “Saving my stamina, Big Blake, I'm going to have two vodka tonics and then I'm going to get Clarke to grind on me and see how many people we turn on.”

Clarke and Wick both shake their heads, and everyone else is gone, so Bellamy makes his way to the dance floor on his own. He catches sight of Miller in the fray and catches his nod, but he leaves a little space between himself and their group. There are plenty of women on the dance floor, a few more than willing to dance close when he shows some interest, and Bellamy lets himself get caught up in it. He's not a great dancer, but he has some sense of rhythm, and in a crowd this thick, it isn't dancing so much as it's being part of a huge mass all moving together.

He loses track of time, but he catches sight of everyone else in the crowd occasionally, Monty and Harper doing something that looks like an attempt at the tango while Miller laughs and Octavia and Lincoln dancing like they're at the prom and Jasper in the middle of everyone dancing with apparent intent to take out everyone in a two-foot radius.

Bellamy can't say he's exactly surprised when Clarke appears somewhere in his line of vision, hair tousled, eyes closed. She almost certainly wasn't looking for him, but it seems to be his luck to run into her anyway.

When she doesn't drift away into the crowd and when she elbows someone who gets too close without ever showing a sign of knowing he's there, Bellamy sighs and raises his voice enough that she'll hear him say her name over the sound of the music.

From the way she starts when she opens her eyes and see him, she didn't come to find him on purpose, and he's both confused and gratified at the way she smiles and gestures him over in the crowd. There are only a few people separating them, but it still takes what feels like most of a song to get to her.

“Having fun?” Bellamy asks, because she's looking up at him like she's expecting him to say something.

“I lost Raven, thought I would try to find Lexa, but I found you instead. Mind me being here?” She puts her arm around his neck and pulls him down close enough to whisper in his ear. “I didn't know if you were trying to pick someone up.”

Bellamy should be more worried that the thought never even crossed his mind. Instead, he puts a hand on her back to keep her close and shakes his head. “Not tonight. I'm here with my sister.”

He expects Clarke to laugh, or roll her eyes, but when he looks at her she just nods, serious, and starts moving again. She isn't the best dancer he's ever danced with, but she knows how to keep a rhythm, and it doesn't really matter when they're too close to do anything fancy anyway. He could let her go, give them both more space to work, but she keeps her arm around his neck and he keeps his hand on her back, and he can feel how hot she is through her shirt, which is already clinging to both of their skin.

The crowd only forces them closer and closer together, and Bellamy doesn't realize just how close they're getting until someone pushes against his back and he doesn't have to fall forward at all to be pressed up against Clarke, to find that their legs are interlocked and their arms are wound together. He looks down at her, checking that she hasn't had to take too much weight, and he finds her looking back at him, eyes dark.

Bellamy almost kisses her. He might, if she were anyone else, but there are links on his phone he hasn't clicked and there's the memory of rope around his wrists preventing him. Instead, he lets it stretch out into a long moment, both of their chests heaving, touching.

“I'm going to find Raven,” Clarke finally says, or he guesses she does since he's reading her lips.

She disappears then, finding her way through the crowd easily, and when he makes it back to their group's table half an hour later, he passes her dancing with Lexa and Anya on the way, and he stays at the table with Raven and Wick and Miller for the hour before almost everyone decides they're ready to go.

Clarke isn't avoiding him, because they don't know each other well enough to avoid each other, and Bellamy doesn't seek her out, either.

*

Bellamy starts doing his research the next day. It's as overwhelming and uncomfortable as he was expecting, but he doesn't let himself have the luxury of avoiding it anymore.

Some of it he doesn't want. Bondage looks appealing, service looks appealing, but he doesn't really want pain. He definitely doesn't want it every time he has sex, and the thought of wearing a collar is more uncomfortable than it is hot.

Some of it, though, he does. Clarke linked him mostly non-threatining, non-graphic pages, ones about consent and care and negotiation, but there are links on those, to places where he can find pictures and descriptions, and he ends up caught on galleries of people tied up in intricate knots, some of them suspended from them, and can't resist the urge to jerk off thinking of the time it would take to put the webs together, of someone doing it all efficiently and narrating through it.

Of Clarke doing it, but he's ignoring that, because she's the one helping him. Of course he's feeling attracted to her, but that's no sign that it's a good idea, so when he's finished doing his research and knows where to look for more, he texts her a brief _Thank you, had a look, found a few other places with more information_ and hopes that's the last time he has to ask her for advice.

The day after that, of course, he runs into her on his lunch break, or more accurately she runs into him, saying his name when he's absorbed in a book and his coffee. “Bellamy.”

Bellamy is a little surprised that he recognizes her voice even from that, but he's even more surprised that she said hello when he wouldn't have noticed her walking at all if she hadn't stopped. “Hi.” She's holding a sandwich and what looks like a coffee of her own. “Are you in the park for lunch?”

“I could be. I'm just on the way home from meeting with a friend and he couldn't stay for lunch so I thought I would go back to the hospital.”

He moves down the bench. “You can stay if you want.”

Clarke just looks down at him for a moment, and she thinks he's going to say no and move on, but eventually she shrugs and sits down next to him instead, a good foot of space in between them, and starts unwrapping her sandwich. “It's still a little chilly for this,” she says.

Bellamy blinks, not expecting small talk. “Octavia always said if I wasn't such a city boy I'd make a good park ranger. I like being outside. You don't have to stay if it's too cold.”

“It's fine. I wouldn't have stayed if I thought it would be too cold.” She takes a bite, makes some kind of face he doesn't understand, and takes another. “I saw your text. I just didn't know how to respond. I hope the information helped.”

“Yes.” He closes his book, because if it's open on his lap he's going to be tempted to use it to look away from Clarke. “There was a lot of it, but I have a few more ideas about what I want, anyway, which I figure is the point of things.”

“One of the points, anyway.” She's frowning. “You can ask me if you have questions. I'm not an expert on the community, I only came into it through Lexa, but I know enough to help.”

“You and Lexa?” he asks.

“We used to date, and I subbed for her, but she made sure I knew what I was doing, and she told me about the store, so Lincoln helped too. And then after we broke up and I decided I would rather be in control, she gave me more lessons.”

“Well, I'm not going to ask Lincoln for help.”

“He wouldn't tell Octavia, but I can see where it would be bizarre anyway.”

Bellamy doesn't have an answer for that, and Clarke doesn't seem to have any elaborations or more questions, so there's a silence after that while she takes out her sandwich and he expects to feel awkward and fidgety without his book open but surprises himself by being fine with it. Clarke shouldn't be a comfortable person to be around, considering how things have gone so far, but he's fine. “I don't know the next step,” he finally says, when she's almost halfway through her sandwich.

“I don't think you have to,” says Clarke. “What do you want to do?”

She turns to look at him, waiting for his answer, and Bellamy gets caught looking at her before he looks away, back at the closed book in his lap. “I don't know,” he says, because it's easier than asking if she'll tie him up again and maybe kiss him this time. She doesn't want to take this on, teaching some man she barely knows how to submit.

“Then the next step is to figure out what you want. You can ask me if you want to talk through anything. I'm willing to be a resource.”

Bellamy doesn't know Clarke well, but he has his suspicions that if she teaches him everything, answers all his questions, she's not going to be willing to have sex with him, much less tie him up, afterwards. He doesn't know what he wants, but he knows he's not willing to take that risk. “Thanks,” he says, and checks the time on his phone. Ten minutes left in his lunch break, and he has a seven minute walk back to his building. “I should go, sorry to leave right when you sit down.”

“It's fine,” says Clarke, and stands up when he does, hastily wrapping her sandwich up. “There are two more weeks of this round of workshops, though they're getting enough attention that Octavia says she might ask us to do a second round soon. You're welcome to come back, if you want to learn more. We're doing more bondage this weekend.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” he says, and nods before he walks off because he isn't sure what else to do.

*

Bellamy texts Raven on Sunday and asks if she wants to have lunch.

 _Knew you'd give in about the vibe thing sooner or later, noon at the brunch place on Middle, I want pancakes_ , she texts back, and Bellamy sends a confirmation without bothering to say that it isn't about the vibrator. No doubt she knows.

When he gets to the restaurant, Raven is already waiting at a table, and she waves him over. She's got a coffee in front of her and she's browsing through the menu, so he sits down and says “I thought you wanted pancakes, why do you have to look through the menu?”

“Because they have about a dozen kinds of pancakes. It's a dilemma, Big Blake. Look at your menu, join me in having breakfast food. Brunch is one of the best inventions humankind has ever made, and I say this as an inventor.”

Bellamy looks through his menu and orders an omelet when the waitress gets there, Raven finally settling on strawberry pancakes. The restaurant routine settles him, and when the waitress goes away, he doesn't even tense up when Raven leans on her elbows, eyebrows raised, and waits for him to say something. “I thought I might ask you a couple questions,” he finally says.

“Yeah, I wondered. And you don't want to ask Clarke because you want to fuck her.”

Bellamy winces, but it's fair. “I didn't think she would even consider it if I relied on her too much asking questions.”

“You would be completely right.” Raven keeps on looking at him expectantly. “So am I your new guru, is that it?”

“You could be if you want to be. I hate talking about this shit, but everything says I need to do it anyway.”

“Cheers,” says Raven, lifting her coffee mug and taking a gulp from it. “I don't like talking about it either, when it's me, so this will end great for us. Look. The way I see it, there's a couple questions you need to answer for yourself. And I'm guessing you've already answered number one, which is that you're sure you want to try this at all.”

“Yes, I've figured that one out. Not all the time, but definitely sometimes.”

“The rest of the questions are Clarke-related, and I'm not going to lie, I'm going to be nosy because she's my best friend and I want to make sure you're not going to go running if she dates you and doms you.”

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

“Then figure it out. And ask her out if you want to, because she isn't going to ask you what with the whole accidental-subspace thing. Clarke is adorable, she has this whole ethics thing.” Raven takes another drink and puts her mug down. “You and me, we just want to do this shit, we don't want to talk about it, and Clarke doesn't either, but she knows she should, so she will. Be prepared for talking.”

The waitress chooses that moment to give Bellamy his coffee and Raven a refill for hers, so he's left mulling that over until she leaves again. “She said I should figure out what I want.”

“Yeah, she said you two talked, and if you ask me what she said I am going to have to demote you to middle school. And that's what I just told you too. It's a pretty logical step, you know?” Raven leans back in her chair. “Call this academic interest: do you want me to tie you up?”

Bellamy considers it. “Not actively,” he finally says. “I like you, and I think it would work, but—”

“And you think about it with Clarke?” He nods. “Anyone else?”

“No.”

“Okay, then.” Raven taps her fingers against the table a few times. “Figure it out, Blake. Next Saturday's the last day of the course and it's a review. Show up if you want. Or just call her when you're ready. And talk to your sister about it, because believe me, it's going to be even weirder for everyone if you don't.”

Bellamy tries to imagine Octavia's reaction to his mentioning any of this to her. The fact that she'll probably be happy about it may be worse than if she thought it would be weird. “I'll think about it.”

“Good. Now, are you going to be in my invention focus group? I really need some male presence. I'm working on remote control, I'm good with radios.”

“Tell me you don't actually meet like it's some sort of book group and talk about vibrators.”

Raven laughs. “No, but that's a great idea. I'll just give you some product and some safety instructions and you call me with your opinions.”

“Okay.” Bellamy breathes out, but it's just a damn vibrator. It's not like he's never touched one. And Raven is doing him a favor anyway. “Fine.”

“Awesome, Big Blake, you have just been promoted to my favorite sibling.” She kicks him under the table. “But that doesn't excuse you from calling Octavia.”

“I should never have agreed to do security at that stupid workshop,” Bellamy grumbles, but he and Raven both know he doesn't mean it.

“Right,” says Raven, and peers over his shoulder. “Great, here comes the food, we can eat and you can tell me what the modern man wants in his sex toys.”

The waitress is blushing when she puts their food down, but Bellamy just rolls his eyes at Raven and waits for her to leave again before he starts figuring it out.

*

Bellamy shouldn't be surprised that Lincoln is the one to open Octavia's apartment door when Bellamy knocks, but somehow he manages to be anyway.

Lincoln, at least, seems just as surprised, even if he covers it up after a second. “Octavia didn't tell me you were coming, she's just in the shower. Do you want to come in?”

“I texted her earlier and she said I should come, I think I'm just early.” He holds up the six-pack he bought on his way over. “I brought drinks. Want a beer while we wait for her?”

In answer, Lincoln shuts the door behind him and takes the beer to the kitchen to pop the caps, handing one to Bellamy and sipping one of his own. “Will I be intruding?” Lincoln asks after a minute or two of silence, the only sound in the apartment Octavia humming in the shower. “If she didn't tell me I'm assuming I'm not interrupting your sibling time, but I thought I would ask.”

“It's some personal business, but I'm not going to kick you out.” Bellamy takes a gulp of the beer, mostly to give himself space to think. “Octavia loves you, you seem like a long-term thing, I should get used to it.”

“She was your sister before she started dating me, and she loves you too. I'll stay if you don't mind, but I don't want to come between the two of you any more than you want to come between us.” It's Lincoln's turn to take a sip. Bellamy waits to see what he has to say next. “It means a lot to her that you've been by the shop more often lately. She wouldn't say it, but it does.”

Bellamy doesn't have anything to say to that, so he nods and takes another drink and waits for Octavia to get out of the shower.

It's another seven minutes before she comes out of the bathroom, and by then the silence has turned comfortable instead of awkward and she smirks at them like she knows it the second she realizes Bellamy is there. “You two finished marking your territory?” she asks, taking one of the unopened beers and popping the cap off. “Sorry, Bell, some idiot kid made a tube of lube explode trying to steal it and I was incredibly sticky. Want to sit down, or are you two going to stand around in the kitchen all night?”

Bellamy knows Octavia well enough to know that that's more of an order than a question, so he goes to the couch when Octavia points him there and lets Lincoln take the uncomfortable chair that Octavia took from the storage compartment full of things from their old house when she moved into her own place. “How are things?” he asks. Sometimes he likes to make at least a token effort at small talk.

Octavia laughs at him. “Good. Indra said I'm doing a good job with this workshop series, she says she might consider making me events coordinator and I'm trying to build up enough cred to get her to support me starting up a sex ed program at the community center.”

“People will love that.”

She puts her feet in his lap. “Because I definitely care what people think. I could have used sex ed when I was a teenager—I mean, you did a good job, but I wasn't going to ask you about condom technique or anything.”

“You're doing good, O,” he says. It needs saying.

Octavia just grins at him. “I know. And that's definitely not what you came here to talk to me about. Do you need to work up to it some more?”

“Would it be weird for you if I dated someone from the store?” he asks. It's the most important question, really. He would give up anyone for Octavia without a second's hesitation.

That makes her pause, and she glances over at Lincoln, a brief silent conversation, before she looks back. “Clarke?” Bellamy nods. “I wondered, after the night at the club, but considering the first time you two met was a pretty major power struggle, I didn't want to make any assumptions.” Bellamy tries not to show a reaction at the words “power struggle,” but Lincoln's chair creaks and Octavia goes still, so he knows they're drawing their own conclusions.

“If you don't want it to happen, it won't happen,” he says, because he'll talk about dating Clarke with Octavia but he can't talk about the elephant in the room with her yet.

“Date who you want, Bellamy, seriously.” She pauses. “I don't think I've seen you serious about anyone since … God, I don't know. Echo, maybe.”

“We haven't even been on a date, I wouldn't describe things as serious. I'm just interested, and thinking of asking her out, that's all.”

Octavia looks over her shoulder at Lincoln. “You know her better than I do. Do you think she would say yes?”

If Octavia has suspicions, Lincoln _knows_ , Bellamy knows that the second they look at each other, but Lincoln just nods at him, and he suspects that when he heads home he'll have another text offering to talk him through anything that needs talking through. “She might have some hesitations,” he says after a considering silence.

Octavia sits up straight, frowning. “What, is he not good enough or something?”

Bellamy puts his hand over his eyes, because he can't look at Octavia and talk about this. “Probably because she's tied me up before and figured out I liked it in a really embarrassing way.”

When a few seconds go by without Octavia saying anything, he lowers his hand, expecting her to be gaping or hiding a grin. Instead, she's staring at him, intent enough to be unnerving. Lincoln is the one who answers. “If you ask her and make it clear that it's not transference because she's the person who made you realize you might like subbing, there's a chance.”

Talking again, but it wasn't like he didn't know that would be the answer. “I'll think about it. Mostly I'm here to make sure it's not going to be weird for you, O, especially if it doesn't work out. You work with her sometimes.”

“Clarke and Lexa used to date, and they're running a workshop together,” Octavia points out. “I don't think she would have a problem doing workshops for an ex's sister. Look, you like her?”

“I could.”

“God, you're stupid.” Lincoln clears his throat, and she rolls her eyes at both of them. “You think you can figure out how to be happy with her?”

“I think it's an option.”

“Then you've officially got my Victorian blessing. Ask her out, do kinky things, let Clarke tell me about them really vaguely so I can pretend it's not you, and I think it could be good.”

Bellamy just puts his hands on her legs, still in his lap, and squeezes, because he can't think of anything much to say to that.

After a minute, Lincoln takes a long drink from his bottle and stands up. “I'm going to get us all our second beer and then maybe we can watch a non-pornographic movie,” he says, and leaves for the kitchen, where he starts banging around dishes a few seconds later, giving them at least the illusion of privacy.

“Thanks for telling me,” Octavia says, quiet and serious, and Bellamy keeps holding on until Lincoln comes back in and she starts her case for whatever movie she wants to watch tonight, all three of them already knowing Bellamy and Lincoln aren't going to put up a fight.

On his way home, a few hours later, Bellamy gets two texts. One, from Lincoln, is the expected _If you have any questions, I'll answer them_. The other is from Octavia, and it reads _I could use some security at the last day of the workshop this weekend._

*

Clarke passes him in the park again on Thursday, and this time he's the one to call her over when he sees her going by. “On your lunch break again?” he asks when she comes over to him, nodding at the paper bag she's carrying. “Do you want company?”

“You aren't even on the same side of the park,” she says, and Bellamy almost tells her to go, then, if she was avoiding him, but she sits down with a sigh before he can do it and opens her lunch bag. “How are you?”

“I'm fine. Sick of my job, but it's the only one I've got right now so I'm staying with it.”

“Where do you want to work instead?” Clarke pauses, and then shakes her head. “You don't have to tell me.”

“No, it's fine. My degree was in poli sci. I just never really had the chance to try for political internships or anything, since I needed paying work.” He shrugs. “I'll figure something out, and for now I get to mess with businessmen who forget their ID badges all day, so life could be a lot worse.”

That makes her laugh. “Sounds like the job satisfaction is pretty high, then.”

“It is when I can pretend I have no idea who the CEO of one of the top-floor businesses is.” He looks down at his own lunch, which is mostly finished. “I talked to Raven. And a little bit to Octavia and Lincoln. About everything.”

“Good, that's … that's good, Bellamy.”

Bellamy waits for her to say something else, but if she has any further opinions on the matter, apparently she doesn't feel like sharing them. “Good, then,” he finally says.

After a second, she glances up at him and then away again. “Not that I'm saying you should talk to anyone but who you're most comfortable with, but is there a reason you decided to talk to them instead of me?”

“I talked to Octavia because she's my sister and I wanted to make sure she's okay with me getting involved with her friends and her place of work, mostly.” Clarke nods, and he knows he isn't imagining that she relaxes. “I trust you,” he says, on instinct. “If that's what you were worrying about.”

Clarke shakes her head. “You don't need to be taking me into account.”

“I do, though. That's why I talked to Raven and Lincoln.” It's ridiculous, how long it's been since he actually asked anyone out, not just into bed, and it's hard to think of how to do it, especially with everything between them. “I like doing this. Eating lunch, getting to know you, whatever. I don't want you to feel like my sex mentor because I'm interested in something else with you.”

“Oh.” To his surprise, after a second she laughs a little, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, Lexa and Raven both tell me I'm awful at telling when people are interested.”

“I am. In dating, specifically, and if we decide to have sex … I want you tying me up to be part of it sometimes, if that's something you're interested in.”

Now she's serious again, an expression he's more used to from Clarke. “I was your first introduction to any of this, Bellamy. I don't want you to feel that—”

“I'd say Raven and Lexa deserve equal blame,” he says, even though he feels bad for interrupting her. “They both tied me up too, you're just the one I'm turned on by. I can ask Lincoln and Raven whatever questions I have. If you think you're interested.”

“You're great,” she says, sincere, and he already knows it's the beginning of a rejection. “But I still don't know if I'm going to be comfortable with being the first person who made you think you might like kink and to be the first person you have a relationship with where that's part of it.”

“I don't do things if I'm not sure about them,” he says. It's not totally honest, but it's close enough that he can look her in the eye while he says it. “If you aren't interested, that's fine, thanks for introducing me to a whole new world, but I think I can decide what to do for my own sake.”

“A dom sometimes makes choices for a sub's welfare,” she points out, but she's relaxing. “Let me think about it. I work with your sister and I like her, I don't want this to go wrong.”

Bellamy nods. “I can do that. You have my number, think as long as you want.” He checks his phone. “And maybe think starting now, our lunch breaks don't quite sync up so I've got to go. But just so you know, I might be at the workshop this weekend. Let me know if that would be too weird for you.”

“Don't let me keep you from coming if you want to. But thank you.” She smiles at him. “I'll think about it.”

“I'll leave you to do it in peace.” He stands up, gathering his trash and stashing it in his coat pockets. “Maybe I'll see you on Saturday.”

“Maybe you will.”

*

Nobody makes a fuss when Bellamy shows up five minutes before the workshop on Saturday, and the pointed lack of comment makes Bellamy wonder if his sister had something to do with it.

It's pretty much the same group from the first week, but they're all more comfortable with each other now. Raven has her arm slung over Wick's shoulders, complaining loudly about the current batteries on the market and their staying power to Monty, who's nodding along from Miller's lap while Harper talks seriously to someone Bellamy never got introduced to the first week.

Octavia and Lincoln are at the front of the room talking to Clarke and Lexa, and Bellamy takes the opportunity to slip into a corner and find a chair.

Lexa is the one to call the group to order, two minutes late because Wick and Raven and Monty all started arguing about computer applications to sex toys and whether programming vibrator patterns has the same personal touch as remote controls. “As you all know,” she says, “today is a review of what we've been going over for the past several weeks. You show us what we've learned and we make sure that you're all doing it safely, and you can ask us all the questions you need to.”

“And then I'll take you through the shop floor and give you recommendations for any products you might want,” says Octavia, waving at the group. “A lot of you have taken advantage already, but you'll get protection and lubrication recommendations, as well as books or movies or materials for anything else you want to try out.”

“But for now,” says Clarke, looking around the room, glancing at Bellamy and glancing away again, “let's have one more talk about consent.”

Bellamy knows that the talk that follows is more for his benefit than anyone else's, even though Clarke doesn't look at him again while she talks steadily about talking about things beforehand, checking in, the fact that liking something doesn't mean you're obligated to act on that. He stays where he is and listens and ignores Octavia and Raven both throwing him occasional looks. Lincoln only does it once, but he nods when Bellamy catches him looking, so maybe he's only watching to encourage him.

When Clarke finishes, Lexa takes over again, asking each person or group to demonstrate something they think they might use so they can check their technique. Bellamy stays where he is even though Miller offers to pair off since some things are easier in twos than in threes.

The morning passes quickly. It's amazing, the difference from the first week, watching Harper tie up Monty, both of them giggling about it, watching Raven talk seriously about spanking positions with Wick. It still isn't comfortable, especially with Clarke avoiding his corner, but it's nothing like the first week.

“Come on,” says Raven when Lexa calls the break for lunch, towing Wick over to him. “We're all going to lunch together today, you come too.” She grins before he can even glance in Clarke's direction. “Everyone, Big Blake, or at least it will be everyone if you come too.”

Bellamy should say no. He doesn't want to force Clarke to deal with him if she isn't ready, after all. “Fine. Eating out with you guys is using up all my disposable income, but lunch sounds good.”

“You're lucky I'm a mature woman who doesn't make jokes about eating out,” she says, and tugs on his arm until he stands up, joining the general exodus from the room.

They end up sprawled over three tables at an Italian restaurant not too far away, and Bellamy finds himself sandwiched between Lincoln and Raven, with Clarke only a few places away across the table. He spends half of lunch arguing with Lincoln and Harper over the existentialists after Lexa brings up Camus, and the other half pulled into conversation with Raven about her new design for a strap-on harness.

When lunch is over, he risks a look at Clarke and finds her watching him with a frown on her face that seems more thoughtful than upset, but when he raises his eyebrows at her all she does is shake her head.

“She's thinking,” says Lincoln quietly on the way back to the store, even though Bellamy doesn't ask. “She mentioned it to me. We'll see.”

Lexa and Clarke call the session back to order, both of them sitting on the table at the front of the room. “Now's the time to ask us any questions that you want to ask,” says Clarke. “Anything about safety, resources, corrections on what we've taught you, anything at all.”

A woman whose name Bellamy hasn't managed to pick up starts with a question about materials for suspension bondage. Bellamy settles into his corner, wondering if Clarke meant that as an invitation to ask again. It doesn't seem like her, and it's not really him either, but the thought occupies him through her explanation and then through Monty's questions about aftercare for temperature play and half a dozen other questions.

“You mentioned an arm hold that's good for tying people to things a few weeks back,” Raven says when the questions die down, with a grin for Clarke instead of him, which is interesting. “As opposed to just tying them up, you know? And I wondered if you might demonstrate for us.”

“Of course.” Clarke takes a deep breath and hops off the table. Bellamy straightens up, but he doesn't do anything yet. Lexa is there, and Octavia and Lincoln. Clarke has a lot of choices. “Does anyone want to volunteer to help me with the demonstration?”

Bellamy clears his throat. “I'll help if I'm not too tall to be useful.”

“Wick is taller than Raven, it will be educational,” says Clarke, a quick revenge, and nods at Bellamy. “It shouldn't take too long, it's a fairly simple knot to do.”

He stands up and comes to the front of the room and tries not to be self-conscious about it. Not everyone in the room knows what's going on, and there's no reason to be embarrassed, especially since when he glances over at Octavia and Lincoln they're both smiling. “Where do you need me?” he asks when he gets to the front.

Clarke smiles at him briefly before focusing on her materials. “Just right next to the table is fine.” She looks out at everyone. “This is really easily adapted to putting your partner's hands over their head, especially horizontally on a bedstead if your partner is taller than you, like Bellamy is for me, but for now, Bellamy, arms in front of you, please?” When he does it, she looks up at him and lowers her voice. “You with me?”

“I'm with you,” he says, as quietly as he can, and that seems to be all the answer Clarke needs.

It isn't the most complicated way he's ever been tied up, and he's a little embarrassed he has the basis for comparison, but he keeps quiet about it while she ties his wrists together firmly, telling Raven how to do it, and then uses the long tail of the rope to tie to the table leg until he feels like a dog about to be tethered in someone's back yard.

Clarke glances up at him when she finishes. “Good?” He nods. “Do you mind pulling a little? Don't struggle too much, I don't want you to wrench your wrists or break the table, but just so they can see how it holds.”

Lexa got off the table sometime while Clarke was tying him up, and it's not a very sturdy one, so it moves before the knots do, dragging a few inches across the floor before Clarke puts her hand on his arm and he stops. “Doesn't feel like it's slipping,” he says, for everyone's benefit.

“Do you see what I did with the tail of the rope, Raven?” says Clarke. “As long as you leave enough at one end this is easy to do.” She unties Bellamy, giving him another quick smile. “Thank you for your help. Raven, I'll give you a few more details after the workshop while Octavia is showing everyone around. Any other questions, everyone?”

The conversation moves on, and Bellamy returns to his seat, but Clarke sometimes glances in his direction like she's waiting for something, or just checking that he hasn't left.

“If you guys want time to go through the products,” Octavia finally says, standing up after Lexa finishes an explanation about spanking tools, “we're going to have to call this workshop to an end. Thank you all for signing up for this series, and you can sign up for our e-mail lists if you want to see what workshops we offer next. Can we have a round of applause for Lexa and Clarke?”

“And Octavia, of course,” says Lexa over the sound of the applause, which Bellamy joins in with even more enthusiasm after Octavia gives them all an awkward wave. “I've got cards for anyone who's interested in a tour of or potential membership in my club, and Clarke can tell you about the non-sex-related first aid courses running in the city in the next month or so.”

That breaks the workshop up, everyone starting their conversations again, talking about what they learned and, for some of them, when they can meet up again. Raven is laughing at Wick about something while he gesticulates, and Miller and Monty and Harper snag Octavia while she starts leading everyone out of the back room, saying something that makes her grin.

Bellamy waits, nodding at people as they pass him, telling Wick he'll catch up in just a minute while Raven winks at him. Even Lexa excuses herself and leaves before he does, and Lincoln is the last one out the door, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone.

“Was that your way of asking me out?” he asks. “Or testing our chemistry again in public where you wouldn't jump my bones? I understand I'm very appealing.”

“Don't be an asshole,” she says, but she looks more fond than annoyed. “Raven told me I should make a gesture, and I wanted to know you were still sure. It probably wasn't fair to put you on the spot like that.”

“Did I object? I'm pretty sure I volunteered.” He takes a step closer to her. “If you were wondering if I'm still sure, am I right in assuming that you're thinking about it?”

Clarke raises her chin. “I think I'm done thinking about it.”

“Maybe I could take you out to dinner, then. It's only fair, I keep crashing your workshop but I haven't paid for the class. And our lunches keep getting interrupted.”

“Dinner?”

Bellamy, about to take another step, stops short. “I thought I said I don't want this to be just sex. Dinner seemed like a pretty reasonable first step.”

Maybe Clarke thought he was joking about that, but she smiles after a second anyway, so it's not the moment to ask. “Okay. Tonight?”

“Saturday night does seem traditional. There's a restaurant Octavia likes a few blocks down. Maybe once the party out there in the store breaks up we can walk over?”

“If it's the restaurant I think you mean, I like it, even if I'm afraid we might have some company from the party out there. The employees go there fairly frequently, that's probably why Octavia knows it. But I'd like it. If you don't mind our first date being interrupted.”

Bellamy considers it—he likes everyone, but if the group ends up there, it's going to be a repeat of lunch, not a date. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Just one. Are you willing to trust me?”

“I'll give it a shot.”

“Good. Then I'm going to go out there and help your sister, and when we can leave we'll get some groceries and go to my apartment, and we can talk.”

Bellamy wants to tease her about being forward and getting him alone, but she's very still and very straight-faced, and he doesn't know Clarke that well but he knows what nervous looks like, and he has his suspicions that this is Clarke's version. “Cooking for me on the first date? I knew I liked you for a reason,” he finally says, and he's glad when Clarke relaxes and then nods at the door, getting them both moving and out into the store, where everyone is laughing and tossing around porn recommendations.

Raven winks when she sees them like she has some idea of what they were talking about in there, but since she probably does, Bellamy doesn't do anything more than roll his eyes while Clarke goes to talk to Anya about something at the counter.

*

Clarke is the one who picks out the groceries before they go to her apartment, apparently with a recipe in mind, but Bellamy is the one who does most of the cooking.

“This is my kitchen and you're a guest,” she says the first time he gets up to do something, but by the third she gives up and lets him take over the pan of chicken they're searing while she chops vegetables.

“I'm a good cook, when I care about it,” he says, “and I felt useless sitting there. Where do you keep your spices? If we don't add them early on it's going to taste bland as fuck no matter what we do.”

As it turns out, Clarke doesn't have a good selection of spices, but even so they manage to put together a decent dinner and end up eating it over the pan when Clarke turns out to not have done the dishes in several days. “In my defense, I didn't know I would be having company,” she says when he laughs at her. “I'll do them tomorrow, I have the day off.”

“I can help.”

Clarke frowns. “I didn't ask you here to do my chores for me.”

“I know you didn't. I just think it's polite for guests to offer.”

“You helped with dinner. I'll do them tomorrow.”

Bellamy takes a last few bites of chicken, more to give himself time to think than because he's still hungry. “Do you have any other plans for tonight, then?”

“I want to try something, anyway.” She puts her fork down in the pan and looks up at him. “I haven't even kissed you yet.”

“We can do that.” He puts his fork down too, and steps away from the counter. He really doesn't want to end up sticking his hand in the leftover chicken, and from the smile that flickers over Clarke's face as she follows him, she gets that.

Bellamy kisses her first, bending down and pressing his mouth against hers. She responds immediately with her arms around his neck, pulling him down until he knows his back is going to ache later, if the kissing lasts as long as he wants it to. Clarke is fierce, mouth already opening against his, nipping at his lip until he follows her example.

He's always liked kissing, regretted it a little when long nights of nothing but kissing on the couch or in the car stopped being mature enough in college, but Clarke kisses him like she doesn't want to do anything else with her night, her breath hot and shaky against his neck when she pulls away for a second.

Bellamy takes advantage of the breather. “Do you think we could move this somewhere?”

She looks up at him. “Already? I was enjoying that.”

“I meant the couch, or maybe we could get you up on the counter. I don't want a crick in my neck.”

Clarke's smile is slow and a lot more sly than he's used to seeing from her. “The counter sounds interesting, but it's a mess in here. The couch sounds better.”

She lets him go to lead him over, and Bellamy regrets that for the immediate loss of mood, but her couch is large and plush and some hideous floral pattern that she's tried to cover up with the world's lumpiest afghan and he can't help grinning when he sees it, holding his hands up when she glares at him. “What? I like it.”

“It was on sale. And Wells learned how to do the knitting from his grandmother.” She makes a face and gathers up the afghan, tossing it on a nearby chair. “I don't want to talk about Nana Jaha right now.”

“Neither do I.” Bellamy flops down on the couch full-length and beckons her when she raises her eyebrows at him. He knows how they're going to end up, and it's going to be much easier on both of them if they start that way.

Clarke's couch is just big enough that she can perch on it next to him and bend down to kiss him, even though it has to be more uncomfortable for her than their position in the kitchen was for him. He reaches out and curls a hand against her hip, steadying her, and she kisses him harder. It's different, when she's the one with the force of gravity behind her, disorienting for a second suddenly being beneath her, but Bellamy likes it. She's firm and fierce and rests her palm directly in the center of his chest, keeping him right where he is.

By the time they stop kissing, both of them panting and Bellamy embarrassingly hard in his pants, ready to come like he's sixteen again, his mouth is sore and Clarke is disheveled and flushed, sprawled across his chest with her hand clutched in his shirt so hard he can already tell it will wrinkle.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, because one of them has to.

Her gaze sharpens. “I think that's supposed to be my question.”

“Everyone has to consent to everything, not just me, and you've been more reluctant about this whole thing.” Bellamy pulls her down to kiss her again, slowly, and then lets her go. “If we stay here and keep doing this, I'm probably going to come in my jeans. And my mouth will be too sore to eat you out. So it's up to you. Dealer's choice. Are we going to keep making out? Are we going to have sex? Or should I call you tomorrow when you've finished doing your dishes?”

“You're such an asshole, I don't know why I like you.” She tilts her head away, thinking, and then looks back at him. “I want to have sex with you. Nothing more than sex, I don't want to wait to negotiate, but I want to have sex.”

“Believe me, Clarke, it's not a hardship to have sex with you under any circumstances. Do you maybe want to give me the nickel tour of your place?”

He expects her to be exasperated, but she kisses him one more time instead, using up all his air, before she pulls away and starts struggling her way off him. Bellamy steadies her until she stands and then sits up slowly, a little light-headed after being horizontal and hard for so long. “There's not much to see,” she says, and now that she isn't close enough to whisper, her voice is rasping. “Just the bathroom and the bedroom.”

“Unless your bathroom décor is really interesting, I think I'll go with the bedroom.”

“I thought you might.” Clarke grabs his wrist and pulls him behind her, even though he can already see the bathroom door, open a crack, and can make an assumption about which other door is a bedroom instead of a closet.

Her bedroom is small and dark, and the bedding and walls are all gray when she turns the switch on, other than paintings on the wall. He could make the obvious joke, but he has a strong suspicion that she would kick him out if he did, so instead he keeps looking around, even though there isn't much to see. It's neat, neater than the kitchen, and the bed is more than big enough for both of them and packed full of pillows.

Clarke is busy the second she walks into the room, turning on her bedside lamp and rifling through a drawer in her nightstand, pulling out lube and a condom, glancing over her shoulder at him as she puts them down on top of the stand, in easy reach. “Does it meet your standards?” she asks, and Bellamy realizes that he's still standing in the doorway.

“Don't you believe in colors?”

“The walls were like this when I moved in, and I had the comforter from my last apartment,” she says, but she rolls her eyes and beckons him over. He switches the overhead light off on his way over, so they just have the light of the lamp to see each other by, and she puts her arms around his neck when he's close enough, giving him a considering look. “I think I should take your clothes off.”

“I think we could both do some of that.”

Clarke drops her hands, but only far enough to grab the hem of Bellamy's shirt. He knows how to take a hint, so he takes it off, dropping it on the floor behind him even though it's directly in the path to the door. If they trip over it, they trip over it. “Good,” she says, and Bellamy grins at how breathless she sounds saying it, a hand drifting up to rest against his sternum.

“Now you?”

“Maybe.” She drops her hands to fumble with his belt buckle, and he tries to help, the two of them hampering each other enough that it takes too much time to loosen it enough that he can push down his jeans and step out of them. Bellamy leaves his briefs on, even when she cups his dick through them, looking up at him through her lashes, knowing exactly what she's doing. “Sit on the bed?”

Bellamy isn't going to question the request, but he does raise his eyebrow as he goes. “Are you going to do a striptease for me?”

“No, but I thought you might want to watch me, and I know you like having me on top of you.” Clarke takes off her shirt in one smooth movement and then looks back at him. “So I thought it was only logical.”

Bellamy swallows. “Makes sense.”

Clarke isn't in a hurry taking the rest of her clothes off, but she doesn't pause and tease him either. She opens her closet door and throws her shirt and then her bra in the laundry hamper, back turned to him. Bellamy just watches and keeps quiet. If she wants to make conversation, she'll talk, and he's more than happy to watch her, all the skin she's showing him little by little as she steps out of her pants and then out of her underwear and then finally turns around.

“I thought I'd go slow, but would you rather have some qui pro quo?” he asks, hands at the waistband of his briefs.

After a second's consideration, she smiles. “I was hoping to see you naked, yes.”

That's all the answer Bellamy needs, and he arches his back to get out of his underwear as fast as he can, throwing it off somewhere in the room outside the pool of light the lamp makes.

Clarke is on the bed next to him a second later, already searching out his mouth with hers, hand running down his chest, and Bellamy pulls her in closer, and when she gasps at his leg sliding in between hers, he pulls her up, kissing his way down her neck and to her chest. She picks up his cues easily, and she shifts until her breasts are in easy reach, reaching out to grip the bed frame on either side of his head for balance, and Bellamy only spares a second to hope that the existence of the wrought iron headboard is a promise before he bends himself to the task of giving her the best sex she's had in her life.

Bellamy kisses between her breasts and then over to one side, neater and then messier, softer and then harder, waiting for a reaction, getting one when he sucks a bloom of a bruise into her skin and keeping at it. He makes sure to avoid anywhere her clothes won't cover—they aren't in high school, after all—and doesn't deny his inner thrill at leaving marks for her to see later.

Above him, Clarke is making quiet gasping noises, rocking into him, all her muscles tense. He keeps his hands anchored on her ribcage, keeping her where she is, and keeps going, moving from one breast to the other and back again, following what makes her twitch and breathe in hard and freeze.

“Your hands,” she finally says through a gasp, dropping a hand from the headboard to tilt his head up to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her eyes are wide and he wants to kiss her again, but he waits to see what she has to say next instead. “God, please touch me.”

Bellamy knows how to do that. When she lets him go, he starts kissing her again, but this time he lets one of his hands drift down between her legs, and when she rocks her hips against his hand he strokes her with a few fingers. She's wet, and she shivers when he touches her, adjust his angle until he can press against her clit, fingers moving against it until she makes another impatient noise and he adjusts again, until he can slide a finger inside her, just testing.

“That's it, there,” she says, and Bellamy isn't going to tease tonight, isn't going to do anything but give Clarke exactly what she wants.

If she's been coming apart from his mouth, his fingers seem to undo her, her gasps turning into low, throaty noises he could listen to forever, one of her hands coming down to fist in his hair, tugging just hard enough to hurt.

“I want to fuck you,” he says finally, when his hand is soaked and she's shaking all over. Whenever he glances up at her she's staring down at him with her eyes wide and wild, and when he looks up now, his lips stinging and his cock so hard he feels like he might explode, she looks just as impatient as he feels. “Do you want to ride me?”

“Fuck, _yes_.” And then she's off him, a flurry of movement, grabbing the condom from her bedside table and ripping open the packaging, putting it on him before he can even offer to do it himself. “Move down a little? I don't want you to hit your head on the headboard.”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, and she gives him a brief wry look while he moves into position before she swings her leg over his hips, settling herself where she wants to be, letting him put his knees up so she'll have something to fall back against if she needs it.

Clarke doesn't ask if he's ready, just gives him a long look and then sinks down, rocking a little as she takes him inside her, both of them panting with it. Bellamy grits his teeth, keeps himself under control until he can breathe through the desperate need to come. “I could do this all night,” she says, moving up and then down again, starting to find her rhythm.

Bellamy looks at the ceiling. “You might not get that option. But you can ride my face if I come too quick.”

“I know you're going to make me come,” she says, and it isn't a tease, it isn't even an order, but it's still like a jolt to his system, and the next time she moves down against him, he moves up against her, and she shudders out a gasp and then bends to kiss a bite against his chest just like he was doing for her. He looks back down to find her watching him. “You're going to make me come,” she repeats, and then she straightens up again and starts riding him for real.

“Damn straight I am,” he says, and returns everything he's getting as well as he can. She's fast and fierce and he rises up to meet her with every movement.

Bellamy has never been unsure of what to do with his hands before, when a woman's riding him, but Clarke seems to have made him forget, and he moves them around, from her hips to her legs, and then between her thighs, aiming for her clit even though the angle she's at will make it easier for her to touch himself than to let him do it, if she wants that to get her off. It makes her look at him sharply, though, and then she pauses, tilts her head. “You could put your hands on the bedstead, if you want,” she says, and it's not an order, he can feel her not making it an order just in case he takes it too quickly. “If you want something to hold on to.”

He knows he can just hold on to her hips—he knows it's what he usually does, is just too far gone to care about that—but her cheeks flush even pinker while she says it, and Bellamy has a suspicion she would like it just as much as he would, so he reaches above his head, and it's easy to wrap his hands around part of the headboard, to grip on and then raise his eyebrows. “Well, you've got me here. What are you going to do with me?”

Clarke gasps, going off rhythm right as she's just getting started again, and then her eyes narrow. A second later, she's shifting, moving, and then starting again, faster, eyes right on his. Bellamy holds on, and it keeps him grounded, keeps him from coming too fast when he's got the headboard to concentrate on instead of what she's doing to him. It's not as good, he thinks, as it might be if he were tied there instead of holding on, or if she were pressing him down against the bed, but it still feels like a bigger thrill than it should.

Maybe she knows, or guesses, because her eyes flick back and forth between his face and his hands a few times, and Bellamy makes a show of holding on tight, until he knows his hands are going to be sore later, and thrusts up against her even though it feels like he has less traction without his hands.

Clarke makes sure he's watching when she shifts her weight to put a hand between her legs, to tease at her clit. He can feel her muscles go tight, her knees tightening against his sides, all of her tensed and ready, and he shifts his hips, manages another thrust that hits her just right, and she comes, heaving in air, breathing labored, a noise behind it that isn't even words.

Bellamy pauses, even if it makes him wonder if he's going to explode, keeping himself under control. “You good?” he asks when she doesn't move for long enough to make him want to squirm.

“Yes.” Her voice is a rasp even though she's hardly been making noise at all, and she looks up at him, a little glassy-eyed. “You can move again. You've been a gentleman, I'm good, you can come.”

“You giving me permission?” He shakes his head, immediately annoyed with himself, when she starts to frown. “Sure you don't want to go twice?”

“I'll wake you up if I want to take you up on the offer to eat me out later.” She readjusts herself, painfully slow, until she's sprawled across his chest, her hands pressing his wrists down against the pillows, all of them fitting together. “For now I want to feel you come.”

Pressed together like this, there's no traction, not really. Bellamy braces himself as well as he can and starts moving against her, and Clarke helps, even if they're both rocking more than thrusting, their skin sticking together with sweat. This close, she's breathing against his face, and he must be panting in her ear, so he turns his head to capture her mouth, coaxing her tongue between his lips and kissing her with as much skill as he can when he's about to go out of his mind, ready to come and not quite there.

Clarke pulls away to breathe and, moving, presses his wrists even further down, and that's what makes Bellamy come, jerking and arching, not prepared for how fast it came, making some kind of garbled sound he's sure he'll be embarrassed about later.

She's the first one to move, while his heartbeat is still thundering in his ears, letting his wrists go and prying his fingers away from the headboard. He hisses as the blood rushes back into them and opens his eyes to find her frowning down at him, though she smiles when she catches him looking. “Just a second and I'll get off you and deal with the condom,” she says.

Bellamy waves a hand, taking the opportunity to rotate his wrist while he does. “No hurry.”

Despite that, Clarke only takes a few more seconds before she rolls off him, both of them tense as he slides out of her, and the two of them together fumble with the condom, Bellamy the one to finally tie it off and hand it to her to throw in the trash can on her side of the bed.

“You good?” she asks after a long minute, propping herself up on her elbow, and he turns in her direction even if every bone in his body is screaming for him to stay exactly where he is.

“I'm great.”

“Are you ...” She stops, though, just stares at him, gaze flicking all over his face. He doesn't know how to tell her that he's not feeling floaty and disconnected, not like when she tied him up and freaked both of them out, so he just waits for her to figure it out on her own. “Are you leaving?” she finally finishes, when she's answered her unasked question.

He could. Maybe should, if she's phrasing it like that. But he's comfortable and sometime in there, she mentioned waking him up to eat her out, and he's only human. “I don't want to,” he says.

“Good.” She leans into his space until she can kiss him again, slow, a little softer, like maybe her mouth is tingling and on the edge of sore like his. “I'm going to turn out lights and go to the bathroom. I think there's an extra toothbrush if you want it.”

“Right now all I want to do is stay in this bed, but I'll keep it in mind.”

Clarke sits up, and then swings her feet off the bed and stands, looking down at him again and then laughing to herself. “We didn't even get under the covers,” she says when he raises his eyebrows. “I'll be right back.”

Bellamy is most of the way asleep by the time she's back in the bedroom, but he wakes up enough to let her prod him under the comforter before he falls to sleep for real.

*

Bellamy wakes up alone in Clarke's bed the next morning with the covers thrown off him, kicked off sometime after the second round, which is probably the reason his jaw is sore.

There are fresh boxers on the chair next to the bed, not ones he brought with him, and his shirt and jeans from the night before are folded up under them, and Bellamy gets dressed, tuning into the sounds from elsewhere in the apartment as he does, the sound of what must be NPR playing quietly on a radio in the kitchen and the occasional banging of a pan.

When he comes out of the bedroom, Clarke is in the kitchen, most of the way through the dishes, listening to the news on her laptop. “I thought maybe you would want to go out for breakfast when I'm done with this,” she says, looking up and giving him a brief smile. “Since you didn't let me do much of the cooking last night.”

“Sure, thanks.” His voice is hoarse and it makes them both smile. “Sleep well?”

“Yes.” She looks up at him again, pausing in the middle of scraping chicken grease off their pan from last night. “You're good? Nothing you didn't want last night?”

“Everything was great. Is great. I want to do it again.”

Clarke nods and goes back to her dishes. “So do I. And I was thinking ...”

Bellamy moves forward until he can lean on the wall near her. “Oh?”

“Octavia asked me to do another workshop series for the store, about everything high school sex ed never teaches you about consent and how bodies work and she thought it would be best coming from a medical professional, especially since I can talk about the medical consequences of sex and do first aid too.”

“Yeah? That's good. O really likes running the workshops.”

“Well.” Clarke puts down the pan to soak in the sink and looks up at him again, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, and Bellamy knows what she's going to say before she says it, can already tell just how smug Octavia is going to be about it all. “I thought it might be nice to have some security around.”

There's a lot to talk about, probably, all the negotiation Clarke wants to do and just how deep they want to get in this early, but Bellamy just laughs, enjoys the way it makes her smile quirk with mischief. “I think that can be arranged. You'll just have to owe me a favor. I'm racking up quite a collection of them.”

“I'm sure I can find a way to repay you,” says Clarke, and Bellamy kisses her, can't help it, and a second later she's framing his face with her soapy hands, dishes forgotten, and he already knows he isn't going to call in on his favor, so he just pulls her closer and kisses her again, and the way she smiles against his mouth is all the convincing he needs.


End file.
